


A Difficult Task

by patriciatepes



Series: The Queen of St. Canard [7]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confessions, Decisions, Difficult Decisions, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Internal Conflict, Negaduck POV, Quick Fight, asking someone out, cartoon violence, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22237081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patriciatepes/pseuds/patriciatepes
Summary: Negaduck decides to take Morgana's advice and ask Gosalyn on a date.  ...If he can ever figure out just how exactly to do it.
Relationships: Gosalyn Mallard/Negaduck
Series: The Queen of St. Canard [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1235501
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	A Difficult Task

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to [Twisted_Slinky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Slinky) for inspiring this fic. Also, I swear I'm not descending into fluff here. This is the first fic in this series to be entirely from Negaduck's POV, so that's fun!

His self-made throne room—which was once a big space filled with cubicles, but nobody here really remembered that (nor cared)—was filled to busting with a bunch of no-good scoundrels, thieves, rogues, and probable murderers. Generally, his kind of people. Each and every one of them vying for the coveted attention of the great Lord Negaduck, Conqueror of St. Canard and Destroyer of Darkwing Duck. Several of the thugs had women on their arms, some looking like they had spent their entire lives around exactly these types of people, while others looked painfully new. Both were possible. It was a brand-new world—had been for the last eleven, soon to be twelve, years. Negaduck ruled supreme in St. Canard, with the rest of planet earth having given up the city for lost. A line was forming in front of his throne, each grizzled thug—most tattooed and scarred, some not, and not a one of them in clean clothes, despite this building's damn on-sight laundry—staring hungrily at their Lord, who sat slumped in his throne, gripping the arms of it so hard that his fingernails had dug into the hardwood.

While all eyes were on Negaduck—who, despite his posture, was impeccable in his usual yellow, crimson, and ebony black costume—Negaduck's own gaze stared past all of them, his eyes sliding to the door off to his right. His court's attendees swam in and out of his view as he continued to glare, sidelong, at it.

"I'm not grantin' any requests tonight," he growled as the first thug—a short duck with a newsboy cap and a holey, striped shirt—approached.

The crowd's only reaction was the dispersing of the line that had formed and the look of disappointment in everyone's eyes. They knew better than to voice such feelings aloud. The last time that had happened, it had not gone well. So they went back to their party, and Negaduck went back to glaring at the door.

He knew Gosalyn was in there. He had been watching it all day. She had been in there, still sleeping softly—her red bangs rising and falling with each adorable snore—when he had left. He cringed at the fact that he thought that anything was… _ugh_ … adorable. Granted, a whole day had passed. He had moved all about his skyscraper-turned-castle-fortress. But he had checked in before taking his current seat, and she had been reclined on the bed, her slender legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles, flipping idly through the television channels. He wondered if she was still scouring the news channels for anything that might help her defeat him.

Oddly, he thought that was adorable too. Maybe "adorableness" was more subjective than he had originally been led to believe.

He freed his fingernails from the wood of his chair, flicking splintered pieces out from underneath them, before beginning to drum on the arm. A loud roar of laughter erupted from the back corner of the room. He shot the group a glare, which went unnoticed. He returned his gaze to the door, mulling over his very unusual problem.

Well, unusual for _him_. After all, he was Negaduck. He was the Overlord of the Negaverse, Tyrant and King of St. Canard (this one), and the one and only Mallard Menace. The problem that was currently at hand was not one he had ever had before. He blamed Morgana. The witch had gotten into his head with her idiotic, _valid_ argument.

He wanted Gosalyn as his, and all that that statement might entail. But Morgana, the other night in the Spell Room, had made the accurate observation that he had largely held the girl as a hostage, rather than a potential lover. In short, they had never even had a date. Therein lie the problem.

Negaduck didn't "date." At least, not like most people. He certainly didn't go around asking people out. Usually, if a woman wanted to be with him, she made herself known, not the other way around.

His left hand dug deeper into the wood of the chair while his right hand drummed even louder. Morgana was right—though he would deny it to the day he died, if that day ever came, also thanks to the witch. He needed to court her. The thought sent a chill down his spine, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

But how to go about it? He wasn't a flowers and chocolates kind of guy… and, frankly, Gosalyn wasn't a flowers and chocolates kind of girl. Her interests were wide and varied, and while not all of them matched up with Negaduck's, most did. This was infuriating.

"Milord," said a small voice from the foot of his throne.

He arched a brow, tearing his attention away from his bedroom's door. Mitzy—dressed in a soft pink blouse that hung off her shoulders and a pair of light-colored jeans—bowed deeply, her blonde hair forming a curtain over her face.

"Yeah?" he grunted.

She dared glance up for a moment to meet his eyes before looking quickly away. Her right hand raised to play with a lock of her hair, but not in any way that could be considered coquettish. Instead, it looked like she might twirl it right out of existence if she kept it up.

"I, um… just wanted to… uh… apologize for the other night. If I might have… If I did anything that displease… displeased you."

She sounded on the verge of tears. Oh, please… save him from the tears of this girl. Negaduck could handle a lot, but if Mitzy started sobbing, he was grabbing the nearest henchman to drag her from the room. She seemed to hold it together though, as Negaduck stared down at her.

The other night… precisely three nights ago, when Morgana had given him the _priceless_ advice to date Gosalyn… when he had almost slept with Mitzy… while Gosalyn, unknowingly at the time, was hidden in the closet. He ran a hand down his face.

"You did nothing, Mitz. I had a lot on my mind, that's all."

"Really?" she asked, her doe-eyes staring up in pleading.

He growled. "You're questioning _me_?"

"No! Never, milord!" she squeaked.

"Good. Now, go… have some fun."

She nodded, bowing as she backed away. Negaduck fought the urge to groan. He had slept with Mitzy several times in the past. She was… preferred. But he was glad he hadn't that night, that Gosalyn had been too much in his thoughts. The last thing he would want was Gosalyn having to watch him with another woman. He fought a small grin, trying to keep his face the same grouchy grimace he kept while on the throne, as he remembered how that night had ended. He had offered Gosalyn his hand, and she had taken it. They had come back up to the bedroom and gone to sleep. No fuss, no muss. He had expected a fight from the little heroine, but nothing. He counted that as a victory.

He tossed a cursory glare over at the bedroom door, snarling a bit. It was almost as if he could _feel_ her in there, sitting on the bed and watching television like… like nothing was wrong. Like he wasn't sitting out here, his own mind at war with itself. He longed to scream, but he was a ruthless, merciless leader… not a crazy one.

"My lord!" came a high, shrill screech from the back of the room, preceded just momentarily by the loud banging of the doors.

Negaduck jerked his head back toward the room's entry, watching as a wizened old crone—her gray hair thin and dry, a wart beside her bulbous nose that was almost as big as the nose, and a large hunch—hobbled quickly to the foot of the throne, collapsing more than bowing.

"What?" he demanded.

She huffed and puffed a bit, even coughing a little as she attempted to catch her breath. "P-pr-problem in the, uh… in the Spell Room!" she announced.

Negaduck leaned his head on his hand. "And if this was such a problem, why am I hearing from _you_ instead of Morgana?"

"She's, um, dealing with said problem at the moment, Milord! She sent me directly."

The party had paused, all eyes on the interaction between the grizzled old witch and their Lord and Master. It, honestly, would be a welcome distraction, whatever this problem was. He stood, waving away the eyes of the thugs and henchmen around him.

"Go back to partyin'. If you want something done _right_ …"

Tentatively, hesitantly, everyone turned back to their conversations, games, and whatever else while Negaduck stalked past the witch and out of the throne room. He kept moving until he reached the elevator, jabbing his thumb into the down arrow. The doors opened almost a moment after, and he entered, hitting the correctly numbered floor for the Spell Room. As soon as the elevator doors shut, he sighed, leaning against the back wall of the shaft.

He pressed his hand into his face, dragging it slowly down. Why was this so _hard_? A tiny voice—one that sounded suspiciously like Morgana's—pointed out the obvious reasons: he had held her as a hostage, ran the all the gangs in the city and thus was responsible for her best friend's death, and also directly killed her father eleven, nearly twelve, years ago. But… his thoughts drifted back to the night following his discovery of her, fallen over a cauldron in the Spell Room's storage closet, as well as the night he had held her while she had grieved the loss of her friend. These were not things that Negaduck understood. He had no friends. He grieved very little. He was _not_ an affectionate person. Physical, yes, as Morgana had pointed out. But _loving_ or _affectionate_ or _caring_? These things were not him. Yet, holding her tight in that hug while she sobbed herself to sleep, or when she had rolled over that night after the closet and snuggled closer to him. Something in him throbbed, and it felt strangely nearer his chest rather than… elsewhere. Did he honestly want that? Yes, he had confessed his love—oh, how he wanted to cut out his own tongue at the mere thought of that disgusting word! —to her, and he had not lied. He felt the elevator gently jerk to a stop on his floor, and he righted himself, hitting the back wall once, hard, with the side of his fist. He was a conqueror of not one but two cities, with the world on his horizon. How was this possibly his hardest problem at the moment?

The doors opened with a bright _ding_ , and the sound of _zaps_ , destruction, and various yelled words and sounds reached him. He arched a brow as he exited the elevator, turning toward the Spell Room. Through the fogged glass that was on either side of the double doors, different colors flashed dully, lining up with the _zaps_ he was hearing. A loud crash sounded as a shadow that looked suspiciously like a tentacle moved in the room. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. What had these damn witches cooked up now? When he was a few feet back from the doors, they burst open, and Morgana and a couple of other witches—whose names he didn't know nor care about—came flying through to land at his feet.

"Problem, ladies?" he rumbled above them.

The two unknown witches groaned while Morgana managed to lift her head to stare at him. She lifted her arm and pointed toward the room.

"Ripped a dimension open, accidentally. We shut it, but… something got through."

A roar sounded within the Spell Room. He arched a brow at the once again closed doors.

"Magical?" he asked.

"No," Morgana moaned. "Strong, though."

Negaduck reached within his cape and withdrew his trusty chainsaw. "Not strong enough, I bet."

He approached the doors and kicked them in with one webbed foot. He yanked the cord on his chainsaw, the machine revving and roaring to life. What stared back at him was some kind of large, pink tentacle covered monster that looked like some strange breed of octopus—yet, nothing at all like any octopus he had ever seen. In the left side of the room, a group of witches huddled together, sunk down on their haunches as the creature had apparently marked the Mallard Menace as the larger threat in the room.

It was right.

Some messy work later, the creature was fully dismembered, and the witches were all up and about, vanishing its pieces and blood pools away. Negaduck did a quick wipe down of his chainsaw with a rag as Morgana walked toward him.

"I really hate to say this about such carnage, but… that was impressive."

"Hmm," he grunted, shoving the chainsaw away.

Sure, she wasn't wrong, but to Negaduck it had been a distraction that had been all too momentary. The creature, whatever it had been, was gone, dead, and he still was no further ahead on his own problem. He whirled and exited the Spell Room, his hands clasped behind his back as he went. He was halfway to the elevator with Morgana's voice—which was increasingly becoming grating to him—called his name.

"What?" he snapped, turning.

She crossed her arms over her chest, completely unconcerned with his temper. She was one of the few people in the entire city that refused to add the term "Lord" before his name… Gosalyn and her rebels were the others.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"What makes you think anything is wrong?" he grumbled.

The corners of her beak ticked up, for a second, in the ghost of a smile. Inwardly, he roared. Were it anyone else, Negaduck would have already dealt with them. But Morgana was valuable. She made herself indispensable. She was smart. As such, she knew that she could afford to push a few more of his buttons than most. She approached until she was a touch less than an arm's length away, her head tilted ever so slightly to the right.

"My witches and I just accidently summoned a creature that did more harm than good for you into your sanctum sanctorum, and you just walked off. If that had happened during a day when you _didn't_ have anything wrong, you would have hacked one of my witches in half just to prove a point to be more careful. You didn't. So… What's wrong, Negaduck?"

He let out a low, rumbling grumble, putting his back to Morgana. He could actually feel her gaze boring into him, so, his hands held stiffly like claws, his shoulders tense, he whirled. He spared a glance behind her to make sure that none of the other witches had joined their boss out in the hall before spouting, "I'm trying to ask Gosalyn on a date!"

Morgana's brows rose so high they disappeared into her beehive. Her arms dropped limply to her sides as she stared at the Tyrant of St. Canard as if she had never seen him before. He snarled.

"So you're…you're taking my advice?" she asked, clearly astonished.

Negaduck rolled his eyes. "Don't get full of yourself. Just this once… I think… and if you tell anyone I said this, I'll deny it and probably toss you all into a barbeque pit for good measure… I think you might have something on this whole situation."

He made his way over to the wall and leaned against it. He longed to slide down it, to wrap his arms about his knees, and to bury his face. But that was not a good look for him. He had tried that, many, many, many years ago. It hadn't served him well then, and he really didn't see how it would serve him now. Morgana moved to remain standing in front of him, a sparkle of concern—real, honest concern—in her eye. He wondered if he should shoot her now or later… Gosalyn probably wouldn't like either option. He growled, yanking down the sides of his hat. He couldn't even _think_ about shooting someone now without wondering how _she_ would feel about it? What was _wrong_ with him?

"I've kept her hostage. I can't let her go. I want to ask her on a date, but… but I want her to _want_ to accept, not just because she literally can't leave the building."

He glanced up to see Morgana's gaze soften, and he held up a finger of warning. "You let out a 'aww,' and it'll be the last sound you ever make."

Morgana held her hands out plaintively. "Fine. So, the situation isn't… ideal."

"Oh, really? Ya think?"

The witch glared at him, and it put him instantly at ease. Morgana wanting to zap him into oblivion, but knowing she never could, was right within his comfort zone. She seemed to mull over her next thought before saying it.

"Okay. This might seem… overly simplified but hear me out. Just ask her."

He blinked. "What?"

He pushed off the wall, standing in his usual hateful hunch. Morgana shrugged.

"Be honest with her. You've been honest with her up until now… for the most part. There was that whole rescue manipulation a while back. But, aside from that, you've told her the truth. So… tell her the truth now. Ask her on a date—whatever that might end up being since she can't leave the building—and explain to her that she has the right to say no, and you won't force it."

His next words actually caused him pain. He whispered them. "What if she _does_ say no?"

Morgana frowned, and the flicker of concern was back. She let out another, slower shrug. "Then… then you'll just have to accept it. I suppose, given the givens, that you'll have the opportunity to ask again later."

He rolled that idea around in his head. He imagined his worst-case scenario. He turned back toward the elevator.

"Get the Spell Room cleaned up, Morg. And if this ever happens again… well, keep in mind someone you could stand to lose."

He stalked away, only catching sight of Morgana's face just before the doors closed. There was a ghost of a smile there, and, oddly, he couldn't even be angry about that. No, now he was resolved. Negaduck feared no one and nothing… not even the girl who owned his heart, locked away in his—their? —bedroom. The elevator dinged on the hall outside of the Throne Room, and he could hear that the party was still going full swing. He busted through the door, and everything came to a screeching halt as every single thug, henchman, and hanger-on turned and bowed. He grinned. Even supreme rulers needed an ego boost now and again.

"Back to partying, sports fans," he shouted.

There was a great cheer, and everyone went back to whatever they were doing before. A path opened for him wherever he walked, and he cleared one right to his bedroom. He paused, just a moment, outside of his door, seconds away from his usual entrance of slamming the door open. This time, though, he grasped the knob and turned it as violently as he could manage without the slam and entered the room. He did shut the door behind him a little hard, just to make himself feel better.

She was still there, sitting on the bed. Her eyes were now on him as she scooted off the bed to stand.

"It's not even dark, according to the clock on the news. Are you seriously coming here to sleep already?" she asked.

He paused, the comment surprising him. Was that really what he did the majority of the times he appeared in the room, just plop right down to sleep? He made a mental note to correct that. Talking to her more often should help his situation too, shouldn't it? Wasn't that what all the relationship saps on the TV said? Communication was key?

"I'm not here to sleep," he said, and when her eyes widened, he quickly added, "I-I-I want to ask you something."

She relaxed, moving so that she was seated upon one of the sofas at the foot of the bed. "I'm not telling you anything about the rebellion."

He wanted to laugh. The rebellion wasn't even a blip on his radar. It might have been, had Gosalyn not gotten herself captured. However, he'd never tell _her_ that. He opted to ignore her statement, taking a seat on the opposite end of the sofa on which she sat.

"I've not lied to you, have I?" he asked.

She blinked. "Um… depends on what you mean. You did send someone in here that beat the crap out of me so that you could have an excuse to rescue me. But, every time I've asked you about something… no. You might be a little long on the answer, but it's always been the truth."

Was no one ever gonna let that one idea he had go? He nodded. "Right. Okay. So, keep that in mind. Gosalyn…. I want to take you out on a date."

She blinked at him again. "Um… out? How?"

He ran a hand down his face. Why in the name of all the bombs in the multiverse was this so damn difficult? "Well, it wouldn't be _out,_ exactly. I want to go on a date. With you. Here, somewhere, in the building. I'll work out the details after your answer, don't worry about it."

He let out a long sigh, turning his gaze from her. He found that made it easier to think. He continued.

"Look… I know that I've… asked some things from you without… without… without really putting in the effort, I suppose. Morgana—and gods am I really growing to hate that woman for her intuition alone—made a point. I've confessed my lo—my feelings for you, expecting you to develop them, but I've given you no reason to. So… I want to date you."

Negaduck turned back toward her. Gosalyn crossed her arms, one brow arched at the Masked Mallard Menace across from her. "And… if I say no?"

He heart stopped, for just a second, but it did. He swallowed. No fear… that was who he was. No. Fear.

"Then it's no. I told you, time and again, I won't force you. Never. But I will never stop asking, either."

Gosalyn leaned back against the arm of sofa. The moment of silence that followed seemed to stretch into a god-awful eternity where he was trapped in a middle school, will-you-go-to-the-dance-with-me version of Hell.

"So… ask me. No explanations. Just… ask," Gosalyn said.

Now it was his turn to blink blankly at her. He shook himself, took a breath, and asked.

"Gosalyn… would you like to go to dinner with me?"

Her beak twitched, as if she was fighting to keep her face neutral. Finally, she nodded.

"Yes."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if anyone who's gonna read this is also a fan of Game Grumps, but I took inspiration for the witch that comes to fetch Negaduck to fix the Spell Room incident from Danny's characterization of Kammy Koopa from their Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door play-through. Also, on an unrelated note to that... now... not exactly making promises here, but... I'm gonna try and have the next fic in this series out by Valentine's Day... just so you know.


End file.
